The Tides of Time
by Abnormal Trio
Summary: A darkness awakens and causes a twist in the tides of time. The fate of Arendelle and its queen is now as dark as the shadow that looms over them. Meanwhile, in a different time, a young man keeps being plagued by strange dreams of a mysterious woman with no memories of her past. Little does he know that she is a missing part of the past, and will soon be part of his future.
1. Prologue

A/N: Hello, everyone! Anyone missed me? I bet you did. Okay, first of all, it feels _amazing_ to be back after such a long time being out! Can't say I haven't missed you guys dearly. I'm terribly sorry for my long, sudden absence. We had, uh, some… family issues – yeah, I guess it could be put that way. And, secondly, I know that some – well, many of you are giving me the I-want-to-kill-you look, but let us sort this out, alright? Think of it, if you killed me, who would be writing this story you have all loved and waited for so long to return? Yeah, that's what I thought.

Unfortunately, about a month ago, apparently my laptop suddenly decided to have an early retirement without my consent and brought all of my stories and notes and projects along with it – that traitorous thief! So now I'm here, starting everything over again. But while I began rewriting this story, I came up with some new ideas and made a few changes to it to make it even better. I think that if you enjoyed the original version, you would love this!

I haven't read or written anything in English for months, so my writing can be a little bit… rusty. But I'll try my best. I feel strange, though. It's like I'm the new girl once again. Take it easy on me?

Well, I think many of you are very eager for me to shut my big mouth now, so *sigh* enjoy the trip into the tides of time.

Read & Review!

* * *

Prologue

Pain… Unbearable pain… It was the only think she could think of.

Blood… there was so much blood. Her body felt like it was being ripped apart. A blood-curdling scream tore through her and pierced the air around her, echoing across the silent woods.

She couldn't see anything, couldn't think. Pain blurred her vision and clouded her mind. Everything seemed to be covered in a veil of mist. People were moving frantically around her, but all she saw was a mess of colours she couldn't even recognise. Her lips moved but her tongue couldn't form any word. Her throat was raw and burning, but she continued to scream as the pain continued to rip through every fibre of her entire being.

"–stuck… have to get the baby out… going to die!" she vaguely heard someone saying. Elsa blinked. Her visions were becoming less blurry and everything was clearing; the mist was being lifted.

Her mind was working furiously for her to remember where she was. She was in a cave, she recalled that; they'd brought her here and laid her down on a large, flat rock. The first pain that hit her, it was agonising, but bearable. Then came the next, which was even stronger. Then they became more frequent, more excruriating, more _torturing_.

"But _she_ could die! I can't and won't let that happen, she's my _sister_!" another voice shouting.

 _Anna?_

She immediately shook that absurd idea off. No. Anna wasn't here, she couldn't have been here. She was in–

Her thoughts were cut short as another wave of pain shot through her, ripping a shrill cry from her throat, her back arching completely off the flat rock she'd been lying on. This pain… it was unlike the other pains she'd felt earlier. Whilst the other ones made her feel like they were tearing her into pieces, this one felt like it was burning her to the core. Blasts of ice and snow shot out from her body; the temperature in the cave dropped dangerously low and the storm that had been raging constantly for the past long, agonising hours like a wild beast continued to whip and thrash the air.

 _Please, make it stop. Make it stop!_

"Majesty… Milady…" the first voice said again, gentler this time, but no less frantic and urgent. It was the voice of a woman, a warm, familiar voice she had heard before.

"Queen Elsa, you need to push for me one more time…" the voice trailed off as Elsa felt another pain hit her abruptly and hard. Pulling all of the rest of her strength, the young queen let out a cry and contracted her muscles. She fell back onto the rock as she felt the baby leaving her body, a sigh of relief rolled past her. She waited. Waited for the cry of a newborn infant ringing in the air. She held her hands out, waiting for them to put her baby into her arms. But nothing came.

"W-where is my child? Bulda… where is it?" she asked, her voice coming out in barely a whisper. She waited for a reply, adrendaline surging through her veins. Seconds past by, and there was only silence.

"Where is my child?! Give me my child!" she demanded, her voice still hoarse and weak, but her tone was adamant. No one dared to speak a single word, to tell her the truth. But she didn't need them to anymore. She already knew the truth, and it hit her like a knife shattering her heart. The young queen felt her entire world crumbling into pieces, her heartbroken scream tore through the whole woods.

Then she suddenly felt something… change. It was as if every ounce of strength and energy in her had been drained. She couldn't even make the slightest move, couldn't even twitch her fingers or open her mouth. Her visions became hazy and she could no longer think.

"What's happening? Pabbie, what's happening to her?" she could faintly hear a male voice – the voice that had spoken before – yelled angrily.

"We're losing her," a voice, old, senile and shaken with fear, said.

"No, we can't! Do something! _Save her!_ " Kristoff – she recognised it now – growled.

"… nothing else we can do, Kristoff, except… but it's forbidden-"

"Do it! Just save her!" she heard her brother-in-law say through gritted teeth; after that she couldn't hear anything else. She felt herself slipping away from the world; everything was fading away, all her senses slowly disappearing. Something was pulling her away. But then she saw light, a faint light shining before her eyes and enveloping her; it seemed to prevent the darkness from touching her, holding her back…

Then, all she knew was eternal darkness.


	2. Chapter One

A/N: Last chapter didn't seem to have lived up to your expectations. I must admit, I didn't like it very much myself. Boring, I'd say. So I decided to rewrite it. Um… it's kinda embarrassing, but I must confess that the update of this chapter wasn't delayed because I was too busy with school work and such, rather distracted – I have George R. R. Martin to blame for that, and his 'A Song of Fire and Ice' series, too. So yeah, sue him if you want, or my cousin, since she was the one who dragged me into this, but leave me out of it, and don't kill me. I like living.

So, has anyone of you read it? _A Game of Thrones_ , I mean. I haven't read the sequel yet. I like Tyrion and Arya, and perhaps Daenerys, too. Don't like Sansa very much, though. And you know what, Tempest, her brother and I did a Game of Thrones house sorting quiz the other day, and guess what the results were? She's a Stark, her brother's a Targaryen and I'm a Lannister. Eesh. A Stark, a Targaryen _and_ a Lannister in one house. Now I see the misery my aunt has to go through.

Okaay, since I can see that some of you must be sending me looks and glares and telling me to shut up because I talk too much… well, yeah, I'll shut my mouth. Enjoy.

* * *

" _Mathias!"_

The young soldier ran. He had no idea where he was going – all he saw was an endless darkness ahead of him and no ground under his feet; yet he kept running forward, searching for something. But what was he looking for? What did he hope to find in the middle of nowhere?

" _Mathias!"_ the voice rang in the air once again, high-pitched and shrill, and full of fear, the scream of a girl… or a woman… he could not tell.

Mathias stopped in his tracks and looked around, amber eyes glowing like flames in the dark. Someone was calling his name. It seemed familiar, yet at the same time it did not.

"Ingrid?" he asked aloud. "Ingrid, is that you?" the young man said again, this time louder.

Silence.

 _No, it can't be. She's not here. This is a dream, a dream only. Wake up!_

Yet he felt himself sinking deeper into it; there was no escape.

"Who are you?"

Silence.

Then, after a moment, the very same voice called his name again, "Mathias…" this time so quietly and sounded of pain and agony. It was as though the speaker was right beside him, but there was no one around.

"Who are you? Show yourself!"

 _It's not Ingrid. It can't be Ingrid._ His heart was pounding against his sternum, and his breathing was rapid from his previous run.

"A touch of fire… a touch of life…" he heard the voice chanting quietly. "Only fire can wake ice."

 _What does it mean?_ "What are you?" he shouted into the darkness.

" _Only fire can wake ice."_

That was the last thing he knew before darkness reached out and swallowed him into its grasp…

Mathias' eyes flew open and he set up on his bed, panting heavily. His hair was a damp, tousled mess. Beads of sweat dotted his forehead and ran down his neck and bare chest. A gentle cool breeze suddenly brushed against him, and he realised that it came from the window – the shutters must have flown open during the night, probably because there were some issues with the damned bolt again. Groaning, he went to shut it.

It was well past nine in the morning. Lucky for him that it was Saturday, and he had no classes to teach on weekends.

Mathias heaved a sigh, his mind wandering back to the strange dream he'd just had. His head was throbbing now, as if someone was banging a hammer against his skull. The voice was still echoing in his ears, haunting him. Who did that voice belong to?

The young man shook his head and groaned. _I must be going mad. Maybe stress is taking its toll on me_.

He decided that it was just a fragment of his imagination. After all, his was quite a vivid one. A fragment of his imagination, that was all it was.

* * *

He was dreaming again. This was the fifth time in the month already, he'd been having dreams like this for nearly half a year, and it was occurring more frequently; every time it was different, yet still the same in some ways. At first it was only voices, faint whispers or shrill screams; then he started seeing visions, images that only lasted for a split second then vanished as fast as it came, and now the visions were progressively longer. He would find himself in some strange place, somewhere in the wilderness, deep within a dark forest or in the mountains, or in the ruins of an old castle where the walls were cold and dark as if it was haunted by the ghosts of the kings who once ruled them, or it could be in the middle of a battlefield where fingers of smoke almost covered the air and the smell of blood and gunpowder was too copious and too obvious to ignore; the background could be different, but every time it was the same thing. There was a strange woman with white hair, dressed in old-fashioned clothing; she kept calling out his name, screaming for his help and reaching out to him, but when he answered to her, or when their hands almost touched, she vanished and he was pulled back to reality.

However, this time, it was different.

He was standing beside a small stream, in the middle of a forest. He looked around, trying to comprehend where he was, yet found himself completely taken aback by the beauty of nature around him. Huge trees sprung from the ground, their branches and leaves weaving a thick canopy above; drops of sunlight leaked through it and spilled onto the soft, fresh green grass below. The air was thick with the fragrant scents of flowers and ripe fruits; the wind was humming softly, and the stream flowed slowly as if to linger to listen to its gentle melody. The water was clear and almost as calm as a mirror. For a moment, he thought he had been sent to heaven.

Perhaps he was too captivated by the wonders around him that he failed to notice her. She was seated on a rock on the other side, dressed in a dress that was as white as the snowy colour of her skin and the rich, long locks of hair that flowed down her shoulders and back liked the cascade of a waterfall. She was even more beautiful than what he remembered from the vague memories of their previous 'encounters'. A soft smile graced the rose of her lips, and her eyes met his – they were clear and bright and as warm and blue as the ocean.

"It's beautiful, isn't it?" she spoke softly, her voice sweet and angelic and sounded like music to his ears.

"Beyond my imagination," he smiled at her. "It surprises me to say this, but it's nice to see you here."

"Likewise, Mathias Eriksen."

"So, what is this place?" Mathias asked, glancing around.

A frown suddenly creased her slender brows. "I don't know. This place seems familiar, though I cannot recall where exactly it is. Do you?"

"I'm as clueless as you are." Sighing, he sat down on the grass and crossed his legs, his eyes studying her for a moment. She was young, couldn't be older than him, maybe even two or three years younger. "You're the one I saw in my dreams, the face that appeared in my mind every time I close my eyes and the voice that rings in my ears when I go to sleep.

"I wonder what brought us here. You look… different this time."

"Oh? Different how?" The young woman cocked her head slightly, causing her hair to fall to one side. Her eyes bore into his, seeking an answer.

"I never saw you like this… you look peaceful and…" he paused. "Beautiful." A deep blush deepened the rosy colour of her cheeks, and she quickly turned away for a moment to hide her bashfulness. He only smiled at her reaction. "Who are you?" he asked curiously.

She wrung her hands in her lap, still avoiding his scrutinizing gaze. "I don't know. I remember nothing. I find no shred of memories about my past or my presence, no clue about who I am, my name, my family, where I come from – nothing. But I remember you. I… I was hoping you could tell me who I am." She looked up at him hopefully, but he shook his head, and she lowered her eyes in despair.

"You don't remember anything? Anything at all?" Mathias asked.

"No," she sighed wistfully, knitting her fingers. "All I remember is darkness. Cold, silent and agonising darkness that surrounds me, haunting me; I don't know why, or how, but I've been trapped within in for as long as I can remember." She stood abruptly and began to pace frantically on her bare feet. Mathias also rose from the ground, his eyes never leaving her.

"I need to get out of it," she said firmly. "This is the first time I've been free of it, it feels amazing and I wish it can last forever, but I know it won't. I need to get out, and… do something." She ran a hand through her hair nervously. She looked like a child now, confused, scared, bewildered and panicked, so unlike the poised, graceful woman he saw just moments ago. "I-I don't know what I have to do – I don't even know who _I_ am – but I know that I have some unfinished business to sort out. I'm not dead, by the way, if that's what you thought – I'm _alive_ … or at least I think so." _How the hell does she know?_ "I… Well, we don't have any evidence to prove whether I am dead or not… oh, Gods, now I'm not making any sense." That brought a smirk to his lips. The woman smacked her forehead. "Great, now you must be thinking I'm out of my mind. I'm glad you find my silliness amusing."

Mathias cleared his throat nervously. "No, no, it's not like that. It's just… well, it's nothing. Never mind."

"Right," she looked at him incredulously. "Anyway, my point is that I have to find a way out of this… this darkness, this _prison_ , I need to get back… somewhere, and I have to finish whatever I haven't. I have tried to escape before, and believe me, I've tried countless times. But it never worked." By the look on her face, he could see that she was getting to the point now.

"I cannot free myself, Mathias. Only you can," she said, looking at him straight in the eye.

 _Hvad?_ He stared at her for a long moment, wide-eyed and stunned. "Me?" He finally found his voice again. "Why would you think I can free you? Wait, hold on… this doesn't make any sense. Maybe this isn't real – it's just a dream, after all, and you're probably no more than a fragment of my imagination."

"Mathias, please… listen to me," she pleaded. "I know that this all sounds impossible, that it seems unreal – trust me, I wouldn't even believe in this myself were I you. This may be a dream, but _this is real_ , as real as you and I." She paused, heaving a deep sigh. "Look, I don't even know who I am, where I come from, or how I ended up here. I need you to help me remember. Please, there's something I have to do – I don't know yet – but I have a feeling that it's very, extremely important… it's a matter of life and death. So please… you need to… you _have_ to wake me up, free me from this darkness. I don't _think_ that you can do this; I _know_ it, I know it. Only _you_ can free me."

"I don't understand," Mathias shook his head. "Why would-"

A sudden rumble of the earth cut him off mid-sentence and almost knocked him off his feet. Mathias swayed a little but managed to maintain his balance. Then, his eyes went wide as he noticed the grass beneath him was rapidly turning into a deathly ash-grey colour. Looking up, he saw the same thing was happening with the trees. Light was fading away, slowly giving place for darkness to once again take over. Panicking, he looked over to the young woman to see she was just as confused and frightened as he was. The ground trembled vigorously, and she lost her balance, hitting the ground on her hands and knees. Everything around them was collapsing.

"Our time is up," he heard the woman saying; all colours drained from her face as she looked around. "You're waking up!" she shouted with a quivering voice. He could see the fear written in her eyes, could see how much desperately she dreaded going back to the dark pit that was her prison.

"Mathias, please! You have to free me!" she begged, her voice urgent and frantic.

"But how?" he shouted back. "How can I free you? What if I can't do it?"

He tried to reach out to her. She was fading. He couldn't see her anymore, but he could hear her voice ringing in the empty darkness.

"I know you can do it. Only fire can wake ice. You'll know what to do when the time comes."

 _Only fire can wake ice…_

Then he woke up.

They met several times in the weeks later, in the very same spot, though she never mentioned her request again, and they were still separated by that stream, for, according to her, should any of them step into the water, every connection between them would be cut. So they simply just talked. She still couldn't remember anything about herself, so he told her about himself instead, and she listened to everything he said with a genuine interest, laughed at his jokes and comforted him when he needed. Mathias was still convinced that she was only a fragment of his imagination, but he appreciated her company, even enjoyed it. However, imaginary or not, he had come to see her as a friend, one whom he could trust and confide in.

On one night, he finally decided to tell her his biggest, deepest secret.

"Just… don't panic," he told her. Inhaling deeply, Mathias cupped his hands together, and concentrated. Warmth welled up inside him and travelled to his hands. It radiated off the skin of his palm and gathered into a ball of heat. Then, slowly, a flame appeared, flickering in an orange orb floating above his palm.

Her eyes widened, and she gasped loudly. "You… you can…"

"Yes. I can control fire," he admitted.

"I-I can see that but… I mean, how? It's… it's impossible!"

"I know, I know. It's weird, but… ah…" he ran his hands through his hair nervously.

"How did you get it?" she asked.

"I was born with it – at least according to my mother," he explained. "I don't know why I got this power. My older brother Edgar doesn't have it; my father doesn't, either. And I doubt anyone in my family has." He sighed. "At first I didn't know how to control it, and I was scared. Then I eventually learned how to control it and embraced it. I used to play with it as a child with my brother and-" he stopped abruptly and didn't say anything more.

The white-haired woman frowned. "But you don't love it as you used to anymore," she said. He nodded slowly. "What happened?"

"Well… let's just say that it failed me when I needed it most."

"Do you want to talk about it?"

"No," he almost snapped at her. She recoiled slightly and tentatively wrapped her arms around herself, a gesture he noticed she always did whenever she was scared or nervous. Exhaling, he sent her an apologetic look. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to snap at you like that. It's just…"

"It's alright," she interrupted him. "It's my fault. I shouldn't have asked. You don't have to talk about it if you don't want to."

Mathias opened his mouth to say something, but then he felt the ground shift underneath him slightly. "It's time," he said, although they both knew what was happening already.

"Will I see you again?" he looked at her, hoping that she would smile at him and say yes. But she shook her head sadly. "I don't know," she said. "I fear this is the last time we will ever meet… at least in your dreams."

"Then how can we meet?"

She looked at him, her cerulean blue eyes gleaming like stars. _"Only fire can wake ice."_

When Mathias opened his eyes, he saw the sun was rising outside his window. _Strange_ , he thought. Usually, whenever having dreams like this, he would wake up panicking and bewildered, with his heart hammering in his chest and his head throbbing. Yet this time, he never felt more relaxed and content.

* * *

Summer was on its way; Mathias could feel it in the air already. He had always loved summer. Whereas spring is what brings the seeds of life back to earth, summer is when that life is at its fullest.

Yet, despite his love for the warm, sunny summer, part of him did not want it to come, at least not so early. Because summer also meant goodbye to his students, and the thought of not seeing them for three months saddened him. Little devils they were, yet he loved him as if they were his own children, although he was scarcely ten or eleven years older than the oldest of the kids and looked more like an older brother to them rather than a father.

School was over. It was time to go home. As he walked towards the school gate, someone called him.

"Matt, wait!"

He turned around and saw a girl running towards him. "Emma, what are you doing here?"

"What? No _'Bonjour, Mademoiselle'_ or _'Hej, lille kanin'_?" the ten-year-old panted, big green eyes beaming at him. Mathias rolled his eyes and chuckled at her demeanour. Sprightly as usual, and a little cheeky sometimes, too, that girl. Emma was a French-Norwegian, and also his neighbour. She'd been a little friend to him for two years since he first moved to this city. Emma wasn't one of his students, but she would be next year. He loved the girl dearly. She reminded him of someone he once knew, someone very dear to him.

"Shouldn't you be going home now?" he asked. Emma's classes ended about an hour ago, he knew.

"I waited for you," she mumbled, wringing her hands shyly. "I… well, my father's on a business trip, and I have to walk home alone, and I'll have to be on my own for a week, too. I was, well, I wanted… I was hoping you would let me come over to your place, let me stay with you. Just for a few days. I don't wanna be alone. I'm scared, Mathias. Please?"

Mathias sighed, running a hand through his coarse black hair. She just needed to look up at him with those sad, big eyes of hers and he melted. Just like Ingrid, he thought. "Fine," Mathias finally said. "You can come. I think I'll manage babysitting a ten-year-old." Truth be told, he was actually quite happy about it. Perhaps he could use some company. How long had he been living on his own now, one year, two years? He couldn't remember.

Emma squealed happily and hugged him tightly. "Really? Oh, thank you, thank you, thank you!"

"Alright, alright, you can let go of me now. Come one, lille kanin. Let's go home." He put an arm around the little girl's shoulders and steered her out of the school.

That night, he was reading in his study when Emma suddenly came to him. "I can't sleep," she said, her voice barely above a whisper.

"Why?"

"I'm scared. I had a nightmare last night, or at least I think I did. I'm afraid it might come back."

"Oh? What do you mean you think you had a nightmare?"

"Well, it was pretty scary at first, but then it wasn't."

"Care to elaborate?"

The girl cocked her head slightly. "Care to what?"

"Sorry. What was the dream about?"

"Well… I was in some place, I don't know where, but it was so dark. But then I saw a… a blue floating glowing ball. I followed it to a door, a really big door with some weird carvings on it. And when it opened, I came into a throne room, though it was all ruined. The ball led me to another door. I opened it and stepped out, and I saw a forest. I was still following the ball. We went deeper into the forest, until we saw a cave – that was when the ball disappeared. I went into the cave and… I saw a person."

"A person?" Mathias asked incredulously.

Emma nodded. "Yes, a woman. I don't know who she was, but she was beautiful. Like an angel. With white hair and white skin. And she wore a white dress, too. She was sleeping, but I think she was having a nightmare. I tried to wake her, but she didn't open her eyes. Then the blue ball appeared right before me, and it whispered to me…"

"Only fire can wake ice," Mathias whispered, his eyes now wide as plates.

Emma was shocked. "Y-yes. How… how did you know that?"

"Because I have seen her, too," he said. "Once upon a dream."

* * *

A/N: I have a week free now, so I'll try to update another chapter as soon as possible. Let me know what you think.


	3. Chapter Two

A/N: Feeling like an idiot. Somehow I missed the ending when I posted this. My bad. So now I have to post it again, and you'll have to read it again.

* * *

An endless field of green stretched far and wide until the horizon; a tortuous road cut through it like a giant grey snake crawling towards the sky. Mathias could recall how he used to think that the 'snake' was trying to swallow the sun when he was still a boy. He had always been a dreamy boy, with a vivid imagination and a mind filled with fancy dreams of boyhood. He was a grown man now, but he doubted that the little dreamy boy inside him had gone anywhere.

"Mats, remind me again why you insisted on bringing the girl with us?" he heard Edgar asking in Danish.

The young man lazily moved his gaze away from the windscreen and looked at his brother with tired amber eyes. "Why not?" he shrugged. Glancing over his shoulder, he saw Emma talking to his niece and nephew, Ida and Dane, Edgar's twins, his sister-in-law watching them with adoration. "They seem to be getting along well, so what's the problem?" He returned his eyes to the side window.

"Nothing, Mats, she's a pleasant one, that kid, but, well… you know what I mean," he said, peering over his shoulder at the girl. He knew that no one understood what the two of them were talking about, but still he felt a strange uneasiness in his stomach. The girl was looking at the brothers with a confusing look, as if she knew… Shaking his head, Edgar tore his gaze away from her and focused on the road. "She looks like-"

"Aye," Mathias cut him off. Edgar only nodded understandingly. He knew his younger brother had not yet been able to let go of the pain of his past.

"A neighbour of yours, you say?" Edgar asked.

"Aye."

"She's, what, ten?"

"Aye."

"And the girl's one of your students?"

"Aye."

"Mathias Eriksen!" Edgar snapped, startling the ones in the back, but his brother didn't even flinch. The younger man only so much as glanced at him tiredly and gave him an annoyed "What?" then looked out the window again.

"Dude, what is wrong with you today?" Edgar asked in annoyance, switching to Norwegian now.

"Nothing."

"Are you sick?"

"I'm fine."

"That's the fifth 'fine' I've heard since we left my house, Mats," the green-eyed man deadpanned. Mathias only grumbled in response, eyes still glued to the side window of the car. Edgar was frustrated. His brother was acting queer today. His wife seemed to have noticed it, too. Having been Mathias' best friend since they just scarcely approached the steps of college, Irene loved him like a brother and knew him almost like the back of her hand. Concerned, the brunette placed a hand on his shoulder and looked at him with her gentle grey-green eyes.

"Is something the matter, Mathias? You don't seem so well," she said.

"I'm alright, Irene. It's nothing," he said, brushing her off.

"You shouldn't waste your time on him. He's been like that since this morning," Emma chimed in.

"Do you perchance have any idea who has taken over my brother's mind, kid?" Edgar asked, half playful.

"A girl," the ten-year-old blurted out.

"Emma!" Mathias shouted.

"What? It's true!"

Everyone seemed shocked, even the twins. Ida squealed, clapping excitedly. "Oh my gosh! Uncle Mathias has a girlfriend!" the six-year-old exclaimed, while her brother, on the other hand, looked like he couldn't care less. "I hate girls," Dane grumbled. Ida ignored her brother. "Who is she?" she asked her uncle. "How does she look like? Is she beautiful? How long have you known her? Are you going to marry her? Why didn't you tell me?!"

"Ida," Mathias interrupted her, his voice gentle and soft but slightly annoyed. Edgar chuckled lightly at his daughter.

"Leave your uncle be, kid. If you keep bombarding him, I fear he might swoon."

"Ha ha, very funny, Ed, but I do _not_ swoon," Mathias glared daggers at his older brother.

"So, my dear brother," Edgar flashed him a smirk, "who's the unlucky girl?"

"Edgar!" Irene had to resist the urge to swat her husband on the head, since he was driving.

"No one," Mathias answered curtly.

"You know, Mats. I'm curious. How did the girl manage sweep you off your feet?"

"Focus on the road, Ed," the younger man groaned. He could hear Emma and the kids and even Irene laughing quietly at him. He was certain that his face was beat red. _Bro, I love you, I do, but you really_ have _to stop being a pain in the ass._

If he could, he would undoubtedly give Emma a whack on the head for this, the girl really need to learn how to keep her mouth shut sometimes, but alas, he couldn't bring himself to do it. However, as much as he wanted to deny it, what Emma said was true. Well, half the truth, actually. His mind was in a mess because of a girl, yes, but this wasn't an ordinary girl. No, this was the same one he had been seeing in his dreams for nigh on a year, the one that occupied his thoughts day and night, the one who constantly drove him crazy and also was his comfort, the one he believed to be his imaginary friend.

Well, that was before, anyway. Thanks to him and his stupidity, everything they shared in the past was now gone.

It was his fault entirely. Mathias couldn't understand what on earth he was thinking last night, or if he even thought about anything at all. It had been so long since their last meeting that he'd feared something had happened to her, so he'd tried to summon her with his own magic, and he had succeeded on his attempt. However, the results weren't quite satisfying. He had seen… things, things that weren't meant for his eyes to see. That had upset her very much, and she had yelled at him, told him to go away. _Idiot_ , he kept cursing himself over and over again. Had he done as she said, perhaps it wouldn't have turned out so bad, but he just had to be the stubborn ass he was and grabbed her. Afterwards, everything had been a blur, and he hardly remembered anything. He remembered waking up, though, in the middle of the night, with his hand, the one that had touched her, was burnt and blistered, which was weird, because he _never_ got burnt, _ever_ , and his arm was crushed with such pain he'd never felt before. The pain had worn off in the morning and the burns had almost completely healed now, though his left arm would be scarred. It seemed a small price to pay for what he did, yet he had a feeling that the _real_ price was much bigger than that.

There was another thing, actually. As the scars slowly faded, strange lines started showing on his arm; they were faint as first, a mild purple colour that could cause them to be mistaken as bruises, but then they gradually turned into a deep shade of red, travelling from his hand to the crook of his arm and forming the shape of a flaming sword, and, across the flaming blade was a letter G. Mathias was beyond shocked. It looked like he was marked… but marked for what? Questions had been stirring his mind for the whole morning. The marks would definitely arouse suspicions from Emma, Edgar and Irene – especially Edgar – so he'd done his best to conceal them by wearing a long-sleeved shirt, which was clearly too hot for this summer weather, but at least it had hidden what he wanted to hide.

He tried, yes, and he managed to hide it from Emma and his brother and sister-in-law, and the twins wouldn't even give a care; when they arrived at his parents' house, his father didn't notice, either. But nothing got past his mother's eyes.

"Mathias Eriksen!" she had shouted at him and grabbed his arm, pushing up his sleeve to reveal his burnt arm and the strange marks that crawled across his forearm like crimson snakes. "What the devil is this?" Arnbjørg Eriksen demanded, her eyes wide as plates as she gaped at the flaming sword on his arm.

Mathias immediately yanked his arm away from her grasp and pulled the sleeve of his shirt down in attempt to hide the marks. "Nothing, Mom."

"There is no such thing as 'nothing', Mathias. Let me see it." Sighing, Mathias resigned and reluctantly held out his arm for his mother's examination. He didn't know if the feeling he was having was awkwardness or embarrassment; it could be either, or maybe both. He felt like his arm was being burnt once again under his mother's gaze. Arnbjørg, sixty she was and still as fierce as the once fiery red mane of her hair, and ever so overprotective. He and Edgar could be old and grey and still her baby boys.

"Good lord, Mats, did you get _burnt_?" his mother gasped.

"Come again?" Edgar's jaw dropped. Irene, too, was shocked, but she did a great job hiding it. She turned to the children. "Ida, Dane, how about you show Emma around?" she said sweetly. Emma seemed hesitant, sensing that something was wrong; nevertheless, she followed the twins. Once they were gone, Irene looked at her brother-in-law's arm. "What happened?" She was one of very few people who knew about his magical abilities, and she knew that Mathias could never get burnt. Yet, how ironically, the skin of his forearm was covered burns… and also very strange marks. It looked like tattoos, but she knew the man too well to know that he hated tattoos.

"Nothing, I wasn't careful enough when I used my power, that's all," Mathias lied.

Edgar didn't buy it. "Yeah, right," he gave his younger brother an incredulous look.

"Mathias, be honest with me," Arnbjørg squeezed her younger son's chin and forced him to look at her in the eye. "Who did this to you?"

The fire wielder quickly untangled himself from his mother. "I did it myself, I told you."

"Leave the boy be, love," his father said. "He can take care of himself." Unlike his wife, who always tried to wrap her sons up in cotton wool, Henrik would rather they stood on their own feet, and he preferred keeping his feelings to himself to showing it openly. He was as grim as stone and stiff as steel. Sometimes Mathias wished he could loosen up a bit, but he never did. In this case, though, he couldn't be more grateful for that.

No one mentioned about his arm again; the twins asked questions, but they weren't very persistent. Edgar, however, was different, though it wasn't until the afternoon that he began questioning him.

"I know that this isn't your doing, Mats," he said, pointing at his arm. It had fully healed now, and much to his surprise the scars had all vanished, though the marks remained, and was becoming more and more apparent. "Fire has never affected you before. Don't lie to me, brother; you know better than that. What happened?"

"Well," he said absent-mindedly as he leaned on the balcony, his wistful eyes gazing at the sunset sky. It looked like it was bleeding; the colour that painted the sky was red as blood. An unsettling feeling rolled in his stomach. It was as if that blood red horizon was trying to tell him that something was about to happen, and there was nothing good about it. "You're right, I didn't burn myself, but this happened because of me."

"How so?" the older man cocked his head slightly, prompting him to continue. Mathias told him what happened, everything, the dreams, the frequent meetings he had with the strange woman, to the incident last night, though he didn't tell him what he'd seen to have to angered the woman so badly, he didn't need to know, didn't have to know it; something is best kept hidden.

"So what do you think it mean?" Edgar asked after he finished.

"I have no idea," Mathias shook his head sadly. "So… you believe me?"

"I know you too well to tell whether you are lying or not, Mathias. Besides, why wouldn't I?"

"You might think me crazy."

"Dude, I have a young brother who can control _fire_ and can hypnotise people. Would it be so hard for me to believe that my brother has been sharing dreams with a girl?" Edgar glanced at his brother's arm, a smirk pulling at his lips. The man really had a way with words and seemed to love saying things with double meanings. Mathias felt his cheeks burning up furiously, though he wasn't sure whether it was anger or embarrassment. The younger Eriksen brother had always prided himself for his agile, razor-sharp wits and his talent when it came to speech. But if anyone could match his wits, even outwit him, it would be Edgar, and more than one occasion had he led his brother into a tongue-tie. Well, actually, that happened quite often. This, apparently, was one of those cases.

"What if I'm hypnotising you now?" Mathias protested.

"Do I look stupid?" Edgar deadpanned, crossing his arms and raising his eyebrows at his younger brother.

"No, you look like an idiot." That earned him a swat on his head. Mathias rubbed the spot where Edgar had hit him and grumbled, "I didn't know you were a thirty-five-year-old kid."

"And you're like a twenty-nine-year-old grandpa sometimes," Edgar smirked. "Loosen up, boy."

"I'm not a boy."

"Even when you're old and grey, you'll still be-"

"Oh, no you don't."

"-Mama's-"

"Ed, I'm warning you."

"-baby boy!"

"You're so immature," Mathias shoved his brother playfully, a wide grin splayed on his lips. The two brothers laughed loudly and went inside with their arms around each other's shoulders, just like when they were still little boys. Unbeknownst to both parties, behind them, on the bleeding sky, the horizon suddenly blazed up in fire, and then all the lights went out.

Somewhere else, in a different time…

Two men shivered in the bitter coldness of the December wind and shrunk deep into their fur coats. Winter in the north had never been easy, and they would prefer sitting by the fires with warm porridge or soup to fill their bellies, a roof above their heads or at least in a tent to shield them from the howling winds and winter frost, and perhaps some company, too, rather than standing guard at the mouth of this cave and shaking like a leaf. But then again, who were they to defy the orders of the prince and their captain?

The fat one with a giant belly and a thick mane of hair cursed his luck and grumbled about the cold. "… have t' stand 'ere like a goddamn statue and freeze t' death while the bastards gotta huddle up around a fire and jest and laugh…" he muttered under his breath, rubbing his large hands together and blowing into his joint fat fingers in attempt to shake off the cold.

"Oi, Aage," the thin, lanky one said, nudging his fellow guard lightly in the gut with the butt of his spear. Aage turned sharply and was about to snap at him in annoyance, but he tilted his head towards the sky and said, "Look."

It was as though the sky was afire, and the sun looked like a blood red eye glaring down at them. "What on earth-" Aage breathed, then all of the sudden, the ground trembled, so vigorously that they thought it was about to crumble. The two guards lost their balance and stumbled to the ground. The cave behind them shook, stones falling from the mouth and almost hitting them.

After a few moments, the earth stilled abruptly… silence filled the air… and then, a surge dazzling ice blue light burst out from deep within the throat of the cave; a strong force shoved the two guards backwards, sending them flying several yards away from the cave and rolling on the ground.

Aage's whole body was throbbing with pain, and he thought several of his bones had been cracked, or probably there were some bruises and cuts, too, but he struggled to stand, his eyes never leaving the pitch-black mouth of the cave before him.

His friend let out a string of curses and spit blood out of his mouth where he'd bit his tongue before clambering to his feet. "Damn it," he adjusted his clothes and looked over to Aage. "What was that about?"

"I don't know, Ole. But I think something's wrong in there," Aage said, pointing a shaky hand at the cave. A dim blue light could be seen glowing deep within it.

Ole was both frightened and hopeful. "Do you think?"

"I could be. Come on, we should come in."

When they got into the deepest point of the cave, the sight before them was beyond shocking. "We need to tell the prince," Old declared.

Kristoff was observing the soldiers training along with Captain Rolf and Colonel Casper when the earthquake came. It wasn't a strong one, and not one that last too long, but it was enough to cause adrenaline to surge through his veins. Something wasn't right, he could sense it, even the sky said so. He'd never seen anything like that before. Casper thought it was weird but said nothing about it; he was more concerned about his men's skills than that. Rolf said it was bad omen… well, everything seemed like a bad omen to the old man, but this time Kristoff had a feeling that the old captain was right.

Then, several minutes later, two soldiers came running towards them.

"Your Highness," one of them said breathlessly. "It's… something happened…"

"Slow down, Ole," Casper said. "Whatever is the matter?"

"Something happened at the cave, Your Highness, Captain, Colonel," the other one said. "You'd best see it."

They arrived at the cave not long after. Aage and Ole led the way, holding two torches to lead their way; Kristoff, Rolf, Casper and two other soldiers followed. As he went, the mountain man noticed shards of shattered ice scattered on the cold stone ground, and there were thin, faint vines of light frost creeping up the walls and along the ground from the end of the cave. He felt his heart beating faster and faster as they neared their destination. _Could it be?_

The two soldiers leading the party stopped and held the torch out for Kristoff wordlessly. He took it and stepped forward, towards the large, flat slab of stone where the slender form of a woman lay. She was dressed in a plain, thin white dress that covered her to her ankle, though the neckline was cut a bit low to reveal her shoulders and her collarbones. Her long hair spread around her head like a banner, white as snow. She laid silently, her hands clasped over her chest. Kristoff watched with his eyes wide as plates as her chest rose and fell slowly and steadily with each breath.

"Impossible," he breathed. The ice crumbled under his boots, but he didn't care. Kristoff stepped closer towards his sister-in-law's sleeping form. Just this morning she was still encased in ice, unmoving, motionless, deathly pale and skinny, her hair dark as the night sky… yet now, she was breathing, and her hair was platinum blonde again. The colours had returned to her cheeks, and she didn't look as haggard as before anymore. She looked more beautiful than ever, so peaceful in her sleep, and above all, she looked _alive_.

But another thing captured his attention. On her right shoulder there was a dark blue mark of a snowflake. And in the centre of it was an elegant letter 'G'.

"Send for Pabbie," was all he could say.

Back to present, a gasping Emma woke up from her sleep with a start, her emerald green eyes glowing brightly in the darkness. And in the morning, she would discover that on her back, just a little below the place between her shoulderblades, a mark had appeared on her fair skin – a letter 'G' woven by deep green vines.


	4. Chapter Three

A/N: I'm baaaack! Yeah, I know I told you guys that I wouldn't return until 17th December, but guess what? I lied. Well, not exactly, but I didn't tell the whole truth, either. Anyway, the last test was yesterday, and now I'm free! For a while, maybe a week or two. That's good news, right? And it's also bad news for you guys.

However, I think I'll manage to get another chap or two updated before New Year's Eve. And now, may I present... the fourth instalment of my story? (Sorry, I can't come up with anything better)

* * *

"Storm is coming."

Mathias stopped writing and looked up at the sound of a familiar voice to see their housekeeper standing at his elbow. He was surprised that he didn't notice her coming, but then again perhaps he was too absorbed in his own work to have been able to. She was speaking to him, no doubt, but her gaze was fixed firmly on the grumbling grey sky above them. Cornelia was a stout elderly woman with a homely face and a gentle smile that seemed to never leave her lips. Her hair was whiter than snow, and he often wondered how many winters had come and gone in her life. No one knew exactly how old she was, but she had been in the family for years, even before his grandfather married his grandmother, before his father was born. Mathias didn't share the love his brother bore the woman, but he respected Cornelia enough and had always seen her as family, though sometimes she really crept him out.

A quiet wolf, she called him. With a mind of ice and heart of fire. "Like a wolf's, your fate is chained to ice and blood," the woman had told him once when he was but a little kid, probably about eight or nine. He had scrunched up his nose and stuck out his tongue and shook his head. "That's Edgar, not me!" he said. True, Edgar was the aggressive one, the one who would use his fist rather than his wits, whereas he was the quiet one who would find comfort in a pile of books instead of going looking for trouble. Yet Cornelia only laughed at him and said no more about it. He, with the simple mind of a child, had no idea what she meant then. When he grew older, he understood the first part, though he never understood what she meant by 'chained to ice and blood'.

Raising his eyes, Mathias followed the old woman's gaze. The sky was calm and completely silent. Not even a breath of wind.

"No, it's not," he shook his head.

"It is. You just don't see it."

"And you can?" Mathias looked at her skeptically. The old woman had odd ways to know things, but she knew them nonetheless, and she was always right. It seemed unlikely, but if Cornelia said there was a storm coming, then a storm might really be coming.

She merely shrugged. "Strange," Cornelia commented, her lips curling into a frown, which only made her wrinkled face even more wrinkled.

"How so?" he asked. Storm wasn't frequent in this area, but it was no stranger to them. Arendal was a port city. For thousands of years, the sea had been its greatest friend and greatest enemy.

"This one comes from the north, not south."

"How could you know?"

"The wind."

Mathias stared at her. The old woman seemed to know everything, and she had very odd ways of knowing things. Even now when he was a grown man, he still wondered whether she was some sort of witch or sorceress, because she knew too much, even things she wasn't supposed to know. Edgar said it was probably because she was old and had lived long enough to notice things everyone couldn't, but somehow he highly doubt that.

"You certainly have good ears for someone your age."

Cornelia chuckled. "The wind always speaks to us. Some of us just don't listen well enough."

"So, what did it say to you this time?"

Her eyes suddenly darkened. "Nothing good. Something is not right." Then she turned to look at him for the first time, his amber eyes met with her stormy grey ones. "Tell me, Mathias. Have you had any strange dreams recently?"

Mathias felt the colours drained from his face. "No," he did his best not to stutter and keep a straight face. "Why?"

"You know better than to lie to this old lady, Mathias Eriksen. We all know what power you possess." His eyes suddenly flashed with a deep sadness, then a flicker of fear and anger. He knew she wasn't referring to his fire power, and he knew that she'd had him.

"The dreams make no sense. They're just that – dreams. Nothing to worry about," he mumbled, avoiding her scrutinising gaze.

"Not all people dream like you," she countered, turning on her heels.

Just mere seconds after Cornelia went inside, all of a sudden, a deafening sound of thunder roared in his ears. Mathias jerked with a start, almost causing his chair to topple over. The wind was whipping in the air, and the sky had turned into an angry grey.

It seemed Cornelia was right yet again. He wasn't surprised. Then how was it that it dreaded him so much?

Gathering his notebook and the papers on the table, he retreated back into his house.

* * *

Emma never liked storms. She hated them because they were full of dread and terror, because the lightning and thunders reminded her of the sounds of war. But mostly she hated them for the darkness they brought.

A boom of thunder roared across the sky, and she almost screamed in terror. _Why did I listen to Dane? I should have refused!_ The older boy had suggested that they should play hide and seek. Ida said that it was only a child's game, though she agreed nonetheless – she agreed to everything her twin brother said. Emma had been hesitant about it, she was afraid of the dark, but she eventually agreed. And she had thought that the game might distract her from her stupid fears. It did. But that was before the power went out.

She thought of going back to where Mathias was. He always knew how to comfort her. He knew her even better than her own father, who despised her for killing her mother coming into this world. But she didn't want to be a coward. Mathias said it was no shame to fear, but he said that she had to learn to confront her fears, right? And she didn't want to be laughed at, either. _Get ahold of yourself and find a place to hide, Emma! Or else Dane would find you!_

She considered the library and the music room but soon decided against it. _Too obvious,_ she thought. The kitchen and the dining room would leave her being too exposed. The living room was already occupied by the adults. The basement would be a good choice, but no doubt Ida had claimed the place first. She couldn't sneak into Henrik's study. That would be the best place to hide – she'd caught a glimpse of the insides of the room once, when she happened to be passing by – but she dare not risk the old man's rage. Gentle and funny Henrik was, he could be scary when he got angry, or so Mathias had told her.

Emma found an empty bedroom at the end of the corridor, adjacent to Edgar and Mathias' old room. It used to belong to a girl, she could tell from the look of it. No one had used this room for years, but it appeared that someone had just dusted and cleaned it recently. The room was painted in gold and orange, the colour of the sun, yet dark air hung heavily in this place, and there was a sense of melancholy to it. That, and grief, too. The was a lone flower on the little desk near the window, freshly picked from the garden. _Crocus_ , she recognised it immediately. There were lots of them planted in the garden. The flower itself was an embodiment of spring and rebirth, yet in this room it looked just as sad and gloomy.

There was a painting hung on the wall, one of a girl, perhaps only a few years older than herself. It looked almost like real. The girl wore a bright yellow blouse and orange skirt that flowed around her like flower petals. Her soft, long brown curls were woven into two twin braids behind her ears, her supple lips curved into a small gentle smile, revealing a dimple on one of her rosy cheeks, and all the light in the world seemed to shine in her amber eyes. She was sitting on a field of soft green grass, with a straw hat in one hand and a golden crocus in another. She was beautiful, like a sunflower, but what Emma saw behind the gleam in her eyes was the same sadness that she often glimpsed in Mathias' own golden ones.

"Found you!"

Emma felt her heart skip a beat and snapped her head around. Relief washed over her when she realised that it was only Dane, standing at the door with a big, triumphant grin on his face. "Oh, it's only you," she said.

"You're supposed to hide, you know that? The game's not called hide-and-seek for nothing. You gotta hide and I gotta find you."

"Sorry, I forgot. Silly me," she lied. _Well, it was not entirely a lie. I did get a little distracted, didn't I?_

Dane laughed, coming to stand beside her. "That's fine. We can play again." Emma smiled. She liked Dane; he was ever so kind and easy-going. Of course she liked Ida too, but she was easier to anger than her twin brother.

"Do you know who that is?" Emma asked. "The girl in the picture?"

"Her? Oh, that was my aunt, Ingrid. Pappa would often talk about her, how much of a troublemaker she was as well as how wondeful a girl she used to be. She loved crocus, and she loved everything bright and lively. You know, she and Uncle Mathias were inseparable when they were kids."

"Really?" Suddenly, she realised something. "You use the past tense."

"Well, Aunt Ingrid died long ago, when she was only thirteen. We were still at war then. My father was in the army at the time while Uncle Mathias and Aunt Ingrid remained home. They were playing in the woods one afternoon, just as how they would often do back then, then suddenly a bomber came. Uncle Mathias survived, of course, though he was severely wounded and almost died himself. His sister, however, didn't make it. Her body was burnt to ashes along with the forest. Ingrid was well loved by all people in the area, so everyone was distraught by the news of her death, but none more than Uncle Mathias. He still blames himself for it, you know. That was also the reason why he decided to join the army, and perhaps it was why he decided to become a teacher, too. I heard my father talking to my mother once that Uncle had always dreamed of being a writer and an artist, but Aunt Ingrid's death changed him, and he decided to fulfill his sister's dream for her. To become a teacher. He seldom talks about her, though. My father said he was traumatised by her death, and it haunts him still until today.

"He painted that picture shortly before he went to war, using every piece of memory he had about his sister. It was the first and also the last time he painted a picture of her. When the war was over, Uncle Mathias didn't come home with my father, and it was not until a year or two later that he finally returned. He went straight to the garden, picked two yellow crocuses, one to lay on Ingrid's grave, and one to place on her desk, then he would lock himself in this room for an hour. And it became traddition. Whenever he comes back here, he always does that, though only God knows what he does in here. Ida says he might be talking with Ingrid's spirit. It could be true. Uncle Mathias is… _different_ , remember?"

It did make some sense to her. She wasn't aware of whether Mathias could talk to spirits or not, but Mathias could do many things and who knew what else he could be capable of? "Maybe, but we can't know for sure," she said carefully.

"Well, we can always ask him, but that wouldn't be wise. It's best we not mention this subject… at least not in front of him. Don't tell Uncle Mats I told you, okay?"

"Okay."

"Promise?"

"Promise."

"Now, come on. Let's go find Ida. We can tell her that she won and then we'll start over. Don't forget to find a place to hide this time."

Emma laughed. "I won't."

As the door closed behind them, Dane suddenly asked, "Hey, you wanna play tag?"

"But it's dark!"

"Exactly!"

Dane was beaming from ear to ear. Emma looked unsure at first, but then her soon smile mirrored his. "Yes! I'm in!" Suddenly, darkness was nothing to her.

* * *

The ground was cold and still damp with melted ice when he arrived. But it was not what concerned him – it was the aura that surrounded this place that both confused and dreaded him. There was nothing evil about it, much to his relief, nor was it any sort of dark magic or witchcraft. No, this was something much more powerful.

Shock wouldn't even be enough describe what he felt when he beheld what stood before him. It was a barrier. One that was invisible to the naked eye and could only be seen by those who were practised in such magic. It was deadly just as it was powerful and no human being, no mundane could have cast this spell.

"How long has it been like this?" he asked, finally finding his voice again.

"Last night, I guess. At least that was when we discovered about it," Kristoff replied. "No one can touch it, let alone go through it."

"Has anyone been harmed?"

"Yes, a soldier. Though not so serious as to kill or maim him. He will bear some scars, but that's all. I know it's wrong to say this, but I'm glad that he was thrown off. Otherwise we wouldn't have found out about this."

"Did anyone else approach it?"

"No, only Gerrik did. We tried to, though, but it was no use. Nothing can pierce through it."

"Aye," Ivar, the bowman, who was too blunt for his own good, nodded in agreement. "No arrows, no rocks, not even fire can. The lass is stuck in there like a caged bird. Nothing we can do."

"So what is it, Grand Pabbie?" the officer– Casper, he thought his name was, a man about thirty with short black hair and stern grey-blue eyes – finally asked the question that had been on the mind of every person present in the cave.

The old troll was silent for a long time, dark eyes glued to the form of the unconscious queen lying before him, only a few paces from them, yet a whole world away, locked inside an invisible ring of magic that separated her from the outside world, from everything else. She was no longer of this world, but neither had she fallen into the grasp of death. It was a wonder how the queen could still hold onto this life, despite the condition she had been in when he cast this spell on her. She should have been dead long ago. Something was holding her back. It was protecting her from the pain and darkness he had cast on her. But it was also what had created this barrier.

Suddenly, he knew the answer, and he uttered it just above a whisper, yet it seemed to reverberate throughout the entire chamber.

"Ancient magic."

* * *

A/N: Well, that was it. A little short, yeah. But don't worry, the next one will be coming soon. I'm already halfway through it. Don't forget to leave a comment! Love you all. See you soon.


	5. Chapter Four

"What do you mean _you can't break the spell?_ "

Everyone fell silent at the sudden, but not unexpected, angry outburst of the White Tiger. Yet Pabbie, the one who was addressed – or rather being shouted at, of all people remained calm and collected.

"I'm deeply sorry, Your Highness," he said gloomily. "It is beyond my power to undo this spell. This magic is an ancient and powerful force, one we thought to have disappeared thousands of years ago. But we thought that the Stones of Gráhnnir were gone too, sealed away in the core of the earth, yet they have been with us all the time, and now once again they threatens to doom us all."

Rolf was not pleased. "This magic you speak of," he growled, his ice blue eyes flashing with anger. "What is it? How can it be broken?"

"It cannot."

"It is my niece who's trapped in there, and your queen!" he protested.

The old troll sighed. "Like I said, 'tis an ancient and powerful force, and perhaps the most powerful of all magic ever existed in the world. Mine is no match for such power." He looked around the room. "I believe that all of you here have heard about the Dark Brotherhood, who are also known as Sons of Fire?"

"No northman grows up without knowing the tales of the Dark Brotherhood," said Rolf, his voice impatient and seething with anger. Pabbie knew the man bore no ill-will towards his kind, but he also knew that the legendary White Tiger was not one bit fond of them.

 _He resents me for sentencing his niece to thirteen years of isolation, and now he hates me more for plunging her into an eternal sleep, one full of darkness and terrors._

"You all heard the tales, but you never knew the truth."

"What do you mean, Grand Pabbie?" asked Casper. The young colonel was one of the White Tiger's men, but far more pleasant than him. He was not an Arendellian; there was something more of the east to him, but from the little Pabbie knew of Casper Arnesen, the man had lived in Arendelle for most of his life.

"Ever since you were still in your cribs until you grow into adulthood, you have always been told stories about the evil, ruthless wizards of the Dark Brotherhood who were born from hellfire and wielded the power of darkness, the ones who invaded the Northlands and plunged the kingdoms in the Frozen Sea into an era of darkness. The truth, however, is not as what you think it is. The tales you have heard are nothing but lies woven by humans.

"Their legends go back to over four thousand years ago. Initially, the Dark Brotherhood was an outlaw group of nine last survivors of an ancient race called the Ignis, the Wielders of Flame, Sons of Fire, seeking vengeance upon those who had destroyed their homes and slaughtered their kin – the Glaciers, Bearers of Ice and rulers of the land north of the Frozen Sea. Vengeance they sought, and vengeance they had found. The Glaciers were said to have perished, though some said the nine Ignis brothers took their powers and banished them. But one thing we know for sure is that after they conquered the Northlands with their great host, the leader proclaimed himself king. Some were appointed to his High Council, but three of them chose a different path from their brothers. The studies of magic. They explored their own powers, enhancing them, testing their own limits and breaking them, and soon they began to pursue the arts of dark magic – the power of the night. Their children inherited their powers, and they taught their children what they had learned. And then their children taught their children and grandchildren and so forth. A hundred years later, the most powerful wielders gathered together, and with the king's consent, they formed an order of wizards which is now known as the Dark Brotherhood.

"In truth, they never took any official name. The name Dark Brotherhood was given to them by the common folk, not because of the dark power they wielded, nor was it because their heart was as dark as night, but for the colour of the garments they wore. When a man was allowed to don a black cloak and wear a silver chain about his neck, it meant he was a sworn member of the Brotherhood, and had learned the Nine Spells, forged the Three Stones and earned his Wand. The training was very vigorous, and not every man could pass. There were also women joining the order, of course, as everyone, irrespective of their age, race, background and gender, had the right to join the Brotherhood, but the number was small, though two of the three hundred leaders of the Dark Brotherhood had been women.

"Contrary to what you humans believe, the Dark Brotherhood were not evil men, nor were they wielders of darkness and shadow. Darkness was not their element – it was fire, and fire, at that time, was the symbol of life, not death nor destruction. The dark arts, the magic they studied and practiced, in the old days, was actually a term used to refer to the art of healing and the powers of the night. The Nine Spells, as the Brotherhood called. Healing. Invisibility. Shapeshifting. Telepathy and Empathy. Telekinesis. Teleportation. Shadow Manipulation. Invulnerability. Illusion. These were what they had to learn during their training period, and when they had acquired all these skills, there would be a test. The apprentices would be confined to a dark, empty room, isolated from the whole world, without food, water or any supplies, only the necessary equipment, and they would be required to forge three magical stones using three skills that they had chosen to be their professions. If they did not complete the task before the sun set on the ninth day, they could not join the Brotherhood, and would be forbidden from using magic, for only members of the Dark Brotherhood were allowed to use, practice and study magic.

"Now, this law, on the one hand, was what kept that society together and ensured that magic was used safely and for good purposes. But on the other hand, it was also the reason that led to the downfall of the Brotherhood. As I've said earlier, the training to become a member of the Dark Brotherhood was a vigorous one; only five out of ten could endure it, and only one out of ten could pass the final test. Those who failed would not be given a second chance, and they would be banned from using, studying and practicing any magical power save for their element. So you could imagine how it must have felt. A man named Gránnir was one of them. He was the grandson of a mighty king, who used to be one of the most high-ranking members of the Brotherhood himself before he was crowned after his brother died, leaving his queen without an heir. Ashamed and enraged, he swore he would have his vengeance. He went against the law and continued to study and practice the dark arts on his own.

"During his experiments, Gránnir discovered new things, things the Brotherhood, even after three thousand years, had never found out before. And from the basic nine spells of the Brotherhood, he developed something new… something very dangerous. Four spells. Gate of Hell, a spell that could take a man's life or raise a man back from the depths of hell, and also summon and control an entire army of the dead. God's Wrath, a spell that would unleash a tempest strong enough to wipe out everything on earth. The Curse of the Night, a spell to cast darkness all over the world and make a man's heart become dark and cruel. And lastly, the Tides of Time, a spell that allows one to travel to a different period of time, the most dangerous of all. All these powers Gránnir harnessed into five separate stones – the Tides of Time requires two stones, one to go, and one to return. The Brotherhood discovered Gránnir's scheme and managed to kill him, but not before he unleashed God's Wrath. Its power was so great that it destroyed most of the North and some places south of the Frozen Sea, taking hundreds of thousands of lives. The Ignis were left with a few survivors; the Kingdom of the Light Bearers were blown into pieces, its people all perished; half of the Isles of Storm were brought to the bottom of the sea, only a dozen or so islands remained, which became the Southern Isles as we know today; and the Empire of Terra, the Land of Spring, turned into a land of death.

"Gentlemen," Pabbie said, sweeping a hand over the room, "where you are standing is what used to be the magical and magnificent Terra. You've seen the crumbling walls and broken towers when you entered the valley. It took the Terrish thousands of years to build their glorious city, and it only took one night to turn it into a pile of ashes and crumbled stones.

"God's Wrath disappeared immediately after all their powers were drained. Their creator had been executed for his crime by the last four remaining members of the Brotherhood, but four still remained. So powerful were the stones that they could not be destroyed, so the wizards drew all of what still remained of their strength to cast a spell upon them to conceal their auras, making them look like nothing more than four ordinary jewels, then scattered them to four corners of the Frozen Sea. All four of them died shortly after. However, one of them was Bellunda, the last leader of the Brotherhood, and a powerful witch gifted with the ability to see glimpses of the future in her dreams. As she lay dying, Bellunda saw the future, saw what would be coming, and fortunately, she was able to pass it to her children before she took her last breath."

"A prophecy, you mean?" asked the archer named Ingvar who stood by Casper's side.

"Something like that, and a vision. Four, actually. The first one was a black storm coming from the west. The second one was a sword aglow with golden flame that set the sky afire, burning away the darkness. The third one was fire joining with ice. And the fourth was a golden crocus growing from a rock."

"Don't tell riddles, old troll. I'm not very fond of them," the White Tiger warned.

"The future never fully reveals itself, Your Highness. You ought to know that. These visions may seem meaningless, but we can all see that the first one is true. The black storm had come and it had come from the west. It is only a matter of time before the other three come true."

"How did you come to know all of these?" the man looked at him skeptically.

"We trolls are the keepers, Your Highness. Keepers of magic, keepers of life, of truth and secrets."

"Aye. You keep children in their rooms too, don't you?"

Kristoff spoke up before his uncle-in-law could say anything else. "You said Bellunda also said something close to a prophecy?"

"Well, I wouldn't say it was a prophecy, Kristoff. Some say 'twas merely meaningless words of a dying woman, though I highly doubt that. Bellunda was known to be a woman of quick wits, a sharp tongue and a brave heart, although she was near the age of seventy. It would be so unlike her to speak of nonsense and follies, even at the claws of death. _'Only fire can wake ice. Only fire can burn away darkness.'_ We still haven't figured out what Bellunda meant, but those were her last words."

"So," the young officer named Haakon spoke for the first time, "These are all true? The Glacier? The Ignis? The Empire of Terra? What happened to them, then? All of them? Those who survived, those who died?"

"The dead were quickly forgotten, faded from the memories of the living like a puff of smoke disappearing into the wind. No one remembers them anymore. Everything about them – the Glacier, the Light Bearers, the people of the Isles of Storm, even the Dark Brotherhood – all have been forgotten. However, their magic remained. But that's a story for another time. As for the living, those who survived the Doomsday of Terra moved to the coastal lands in the east and south-east to build a new home. They were the founders of Arendelle. The Ignis remained in their motherland, and rebuilt it from the ashes. One of the last Ignis, and also the last surviving member of the royal family, was crowned as queen. Queen Renýra of Incendous. She later married the king of the western mountains, joining their kingdoms. And thus Weselton was born, along with House Gulsvig."

The White Tiger tensed, his back as stiff as a bowstring. For a brief moment, his aggressive eyes softened, but Pabbie could see a shadow of grief and pain looming over those glinting ice blue eyes. "Yes, Your Highness," the old troll answered the prince's unspoken question, giving him a sympathetic look. "House Gulsvig of Weselton, your late wife's house, the family that was so brutally murdered fifteen years ago, for all but one sole purpose. To stop the sword aglow with golden flame from burning away the darkness."

The white-haired prince's hands curled into tight fists by his side, but he said nothing and only stared at the ground. It was Kristoff who spoke, his eyes wide in shock, just like other people present in the room. "A sword aglow with golden flame…" he said slowly, "… was the sigil of House Gulsvig."

* * *

 _She looks so peaceful, lying there, as if she was a child again, with nothing to worry about_ , Rolf thought wistfully as he watched her from afar. Elsa had her mother's enchanting beauty and her father's sharp wits, but she was more her uncle's niece than her parents' daughter. She resembled him strongly, from the snow white hair, the ice blue eyes and pale skin, to her very heart, and aye, her temper too, though she was not so easily provoked as him. He loved her as a father would love his daughter, for she was the daughter he would never have again.

 _I lost Dagmund, I lost Luka, little Gysénna and my beloved Élanóra, and I lost my brother. I cannot afford to lose you again. You and Anna. Yet I fear I am losing you both. Anna is now beyond my reach, and I don't know if you would ever wake up again._

"You would have to be patient, my prince," the old troll had told him earlier.

"I've waited for too long. _The people_ have waited for too long. They are losing hope, and I fear so am I. How long has it been? Two, three years? Are you going to make us fall into a one-hundred-year sleep so the time would come for her Prince Charming to come and rescue her? Assuming he could somehow grow a new head between his shoulders, of course." There was no joy in speaking of it, of course, but sometimes – well, most of the time – Rolf couldn't hold his tongue.

"I know, and I understand. But 'to everything there is a reason, and a time for every purpose under the heaven,'" Pabbie quoted. Rolf rolled his eyes, which elicited a light chuckle from the old troll. "Although," a smile spread across his lips. " I don't think that you'll have to wait for much longer. The barrier is a sign."

"For what?"

"For the Prince Charming, of course, as you put it."

Rolf almost laughed, even when he _knew_ it was his own words. Elsa wouldn't laugh, however. She would see to it that he would receive a few – or more than a few – frostbites first, then she would declare that even when she was a damsel in distress, she wouldn't need any Prince Charming to come and save her. And she had proven that in more than one occasion. But now she needed one to come and save her? To him, it would be much easier to believe that the sun set in the east.

 _But what will happen, if she does wake?_ He might be old, but he remembered everything… Elsa had gone through too much… He wanted nothing more than for her to wake up, but what if it would be the best to let her go?

The old troll left afterwards, leaving him alone to his thoughts in the dark cave, with his niece and the invisible barrier that separated them.

Kristoff came some moments later; it was unmistakable. The man was as loud as a bear, and near as large as one, too. "You know, you don't make a very pretty statue, especially with that frown on your face," he teased, standing at Rolf's eyebrow. The White Tiger said not one word, nor did he even bother to turn back, his brows still furrowed and mouth pressed into a firm line. "You've been here for the whole afternoon, you know that?" Kristoff sighed. "I know you're worried about her. We all are. But standing here won't help. I understand how you feel. I think about Anna all the time."

Rolf closed his eyes, his shoulders slumped. Gone was the fierce and fearless White Tiger. Never before had the legendary Rolf Arnadahl looked more weak and defeated than he did now. "No news?" he asked, although he knew the answer already. Kristoff shook his head. Rolf sighed. He told the young man what Pabbie had told him earlier. Kristoff nodded mutely, and it was moments later that he finally spoke.

"You two can never get along, can you? Pabbie means well," he said. Rolf only huffed. "It was me," Kristoff suddenly blurted out. When Rolf looked at him in surprise, the former ice harvester stuttered, "I-It wasn't Pabbie who… he's not to blame for this." He glanced at Elsa's sleeping form. "It's me who you should hold in responsible."

"What are you talking about, lad?"

"I… I was the one who made Pabbie put the spell on her," Kristoff admitted, hanging his head in shame. "I _knew_ , yet I still made him do it. I knew it was forbidden, I knew about its consequences. But I was foolish and blind, and I made Pabbie do it, despite all of his warnings. So you see, Pabbie's not at fault. I am. You should hate me."

"If you knew," Rolf said, his voice surprisingly calm and soft, "why did you urge the old troll to place the spell on Elsa?"

"Because I couldn't let her die. Because I owe her my life. She saved me once, me and my family. And she's done so much for me, for Anna, for our son. I couldn't let her die. Not at my hands. I was too stubborn to admit that I couldn't save her. Only when I got to know her did I know what it was like, to have a sister. I love her as family."

"Then I forgive you," Rolf said, much to Kristoff's shock. "And I'll try to be more polite with your grandfather troll. No promises, though."

"B-But, why?"

"The reason is pretty clear, I think. Figure out yourself, lad. You have a head, don't you? Come on, let's go back. I'm starving." Rolf slapped a hand across Kristoff's back, causing the younger man to wince slightly, then walked out of the cave, with Kristoff close on his heels.

But just as they turned on their heels, the sleeping queen shifted her head slightly, and the mark on her shoulder glowed brightly for a brief moment…

* * *

Like a little mouse, she ran from one corner to the other, from under a table to behind an alcove, hiding in the shadow. Occasionally, lightning would flash across the pitch-black sky, and the empty hallway would light up for a second before sinking back into darkness. In those moments, the mansion suddenly looked like a haunted house, Emma thought, but this time she was the ghost.

Playing in the dark _was_ fun, she decided. She didn't have to run, yet she'd lost Dane long ago, or rather she had curled up in a corner and let him run past her. She was not big as Dane or as quick as Ida. She was small, like a little mouse, but Mathias had once told her that being small meant she was harder to catch and could hide in places others could not, and she should take advantage of it; so Emma had, and she found that Mathias was right. Dane never saw her. Ida did, though, but it was only because Emma _let_ the older girl see her; they were allies, after all. They were the mice, and Dane the cat, though he was more wolf than cat, and his sister was as fast as a rabbit.

Neither Dane nor Ida could be seen now, so Emma crawled out from behind the stoic armour that had been shielding her. She stood, clearing the dust from her teal dress and giving the soldier the best salute she could make then casually walked away. There was no need to run now, not yet. She needed to save her strength, should she encounter Dane again. She could always hide somewhere, but she couldn't hide forever; it would be too coward, and she _hated_ being a coward.

The mansion was bigger than she expected, maybe nearly as big as a castle itself. It even _looked_ like a castle inside, or at least that was what she thought. When Edgar and Mathias took her here, she had imagined a cosy little wood cottage near the forest or in the meadow, with a pleasant old couple – a farmer, perhaps, and his wife – and perhaps a lazy, big, old dog, too. However, it was a castle she saw, with a king and a queen, and a few servants. Henrik was no king, of course, that was plain enough, but he looked almost as regal as one, and his wife Arnbjørg was so beautiful, even though she was well past sixty. And Cornelia, somehow the old woman reminded Emma of the wise, mysterious godi in the old tales and legends.

 _If Henrik and Arnbjørg were king and queen, that would make Edgar and Mathias princes_ , Emma thought with a smile. Edgar would be the warrior prince, strong and fierce and handsome, and Irene would be his beautiful bride, Ida and Dane the little princess and prince. Mathias lacked his brother's strength and charm and his taste for war, but he had his wits and intelligence to make up for it, and a heart as warm as the power he wielded. He had no princess, though. _Can I be his princess, his little lady?_ Emma wondered. It was not like she wanted to _marry_ him; she could be his little sister, or maybe… maybe his daughter, Mathias was old enough to be her father. Crazy at it may sound, the notion seemed so exciting. It would be nice. She would love that.

Suddenly, she froze. _Oh no, where am I now?_ Emma looked around frantically. Everything around her looked so strange and so familiar at the same time. _I don't remember seeing this door before_ , she thought, staring at the simple wooden door a few paces before her, standing alone in the corner. _Perhaps it's only because I've never been to this corner before, this place is_ huge _, after all, or maybe I wasn't paying much attention last time_ , the brunette girl concluded. She knew she should go back, but something was pulling her towards the door.

There were strange decorations on the door, or at least she assumed they were decorations. Only when she came closer did Emma realise that it was a symbol, one she could not comprehend. She was certain she'd never seen it before. It was even harder to see in the dark. _Gold and black. Wait, is that a dragon or…_ Just when she was about to touch it, the door swung opened abruptly, almost scaring the life out of her. _Oh God, what if this house_ is _haunted?_ Her heart was beating faster, and suddenly she felt cold at the back of her neck. _Maybe it was only the wind_ , she thought, but she knew it was a lie she created. Yet she walked in all the same. _At least it didn't close and lock behind me._

It was smaller than she thought, and dustier. The room looked like it hadn't been used for ages. There was practically nothing there… save for a glowing object displayed inside the glass in the middle of the room…

 _A… a gemstone?_ It looked like one, but Emma wasn't sure if it _really_ was a gemstone, and if it was, she had no idea such kind of gems existed. The stone was a tad bigger than the size of her hand, so smooth and had the colour of silver. But it was not the colour that caught her attention most. It was the silvery aura akin to that of the moon surrounding it that made the whole room seem to glow that bestirred her curiosity.

Gingerly, she lifted the glass – it felt so delicate that she was afraid it might shatter under her touch – and scooped the stone into her hand. When she brought the stone closer to her eyes, Emma could see tiny ripples of waves stirring violently inside it, as if there were a storm raging in there. She ran a thumb across the stone, to clear a bit of dust that clung onto it. The stone all of a sudden shone with a dazzling light, startling Emma and forced her to cover her eyes with her hands. All light vanished. _No!_ A gasp slipped past her lips as the stone dropped from her hands and hit to the floor…

 _It didn't break!_ Relief washed over her, and she picked it up. But as she was about to return it to its place, something caught her eyes. A small piece of paper she didn't notice at first that was lying where the stone had been. There seemed to be some drawings on it. _No, words_ , she told herself as she had a better look. _They're words._

Much to her surprise and confusion, the words were written in English, and they were written _backwards_. She had no trouble reading it though. She'd played this game with Mathias at least a hundred times before; it was something his father taught him when he was her age, he said.

" _Turn the tides of time_ ," she read, " _Back to time of snow. Turn the tides of time, back to time of fire. Back to where I am destined to go_." Unsure, she read it again. "Turn the tides of time, back to time of snow… Turn the tides of time, back to time of fire… Turn the tides of time? Back to time of snow? Back to time of fire? Where I am destined to go? What is this, some kind of riddle?" She repeated it one more time.

"Turn the tides of time," Emma muttered, trying to figure out the meaning of the words. _Well, it has no meaning to me. Perhaps I shouldn't have come here. I should get back. If someone finds out, I-_

Emma let out a shriek as the stone shattered in her hands, and a fragment that flew out slashed across her cheek. Blood trickled down her cheek, she could taste it on her lips and feel it tickling her neck. Emma screamed as a huge storm suddenly raged inside the room. The ground under her suddenly collapsed and turned into a bottomless pit, and water from nowhere rose to seize her and pull her down. Emma desperately grabbed onto the floor, not caring if the jagged wood cut her skin, screaming, "Help! Mathias! Edgar! Help! Dane, help me! Ida! Dane! _HELP!_ " She was sliding away. The winds were whipping against her, as if trying to push her down, and the water was closing its fingers around her, pulling her into the hole. "Edgar! Mathias!" A wave washed over her. Her hair was soaking wet now, and her face, too, though she didn't know whether from the water or her tears. She could taste the saltiness of the water and the copper tange of her own blood on her lips. Water was running down the walls now, running from the ceiling and flowing on the floor.

She began calling out everyone's name, even Cornelia's and Runa the kitchen maid's. The water was almost reached her neck now, and she found it so hard to breathe. It was as if someone was crushing her chest.

The door burst open, so hard it was broken into pieces. A huge piece of wood flew towards her and could have hit her square on the head had she not dodged, but Emma had to let go of one hand in the progress, and her other hand suddenly lost its grip and she fell…

… but a hand grabbed hers before the water could take her down. "Hang on, kid. I've got you," Edgar said, grinning at her. "Don't look down, Emma. We'll get you to safety." Then Mathias was putting an arm around her shoulders and helping his brother haul her up. She thought she also glimpsed Ida and Dane standing at the door, but she was too worried about getting out to notice. _Just a little more_ , she told herself as she was trying to lift her left leg up… but then she slipped. It happened so fast she couldn't even scream. Instinctively, she grabbed onto Mathias' forearm, and he grabbed onto her arm, trying to hold onto her… and he fell into the hole with her. She vaguely remembered hearing Edgar shouting, and the last thing she saw before the mouth of the hole closed was his horrified amber eyes as he watched her and his brother disappear into the swirling waves.

She screamed and sobbed and scolded herself. She was filled with guilt, regret, shame and fear. _It's my fault. I did this to both of us_. She didn't know if she said anything, but Mathias was holding her, asking if she was okay and shouting for her to snap out of it, and he kept telling her not to blame herself. Emma couldn't say anything, she could only sob. Water got into her mouth and into her nose, and she choked and coughed. Water got into her eyes and blurred her vision. _I can't see!_

The current rapidly became stronger within mere seconds. Mathias was shouting her name, telling her to hold on, and she held on tight to him. But something was pulling her away, pulling them apart. She was shouting, telling him not to let her go. A wave crashed against them, and then suddenly she couldn't feel or hear or see him anymore. "No! Mathias, where are you? Can you hear me? Mathias!" No one answered her. _No! I can't swim!_ She was flailing her arms, desperately trying to find something to hang onto, but she couldn't, and the little girl began to panic. _No_ , she suddenly realised something. _It's not trying to drown me! It's taking me away!_

The current went up. _Up_ , not down. There was light, just above her, she could see it.

She remembered what Mathias used to tell her, that she had to always remain calm, even in the worst situation, so that she could make it better. So she stopped crying and stopped fighting against the current. _Let it take me to wherever it's taking me. It can't keep us apart forever. I'll find my way back. We'll find each other and we'll go home, Mathias and I._

* * *

A/N: Hope you enjoyed the chapter. Okay, bad news. This might be the last chapter I'll be updating… until next summer. I'd give you guys a more detailed explanation, but I'm too lazy now, and sleepy, too. It's almost 1 AM and I still have to go to school tomorrow. Meaning I only have four hours of sleep. So here's the reason: school. There you go. Yeah, I know, I'm cruel. I actually planned that cliffhanger for you guys. Feel free to hate me.


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